


this empty northern hemisphere

by sleepy_santiago



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Femslash, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Love Triangles, Meet-Cute, Self-Indulgent, Wholesome, YA Fiction, young adult
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 01:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20574362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepy_santiago/pseuds/sleepy_santiago
Summary: Ophelia, daughter of nobles, abandons the path her parents have set out for her in favour of chasing the stars.title from the album by gregory alan isakov





	1. Chapter 1

As the parcel was passed to her, Ophelia felt a small flutter of anticipation despite herself. Her parents had been so excited about her birthday present all month, insisting it’d be “special, and just perfect for her sixteenth birthday” - the year she supposedly became a woman. She couldn’t help but wonder if maybe her parents had gotten her a  _ real _ gift this time. She weighed the package in her hands, imagining a new set of paintbrushes inside, or maybe one of those beautiful tapestries she’d seen in the market and had been gushing about for ages.

“Go on, open it!” Ophelia’s mother nudged her, eyes like blue saucers on her pale powdered face.

Ophelia tugged away the ribbon holding the parcel together, and the pink fabric fell away to reveal a plain white box. Heart quickening, she lifted the lid and saw…purple. Purple tulle of the softest variety, speckled with gold, spilled out of the box and into her lap.

“It’s…a dress,” Ophelia said, holding it out in front of her. It was a beautiful one, at that. Little blue flowers on vines of shimmering gold thread embroidered the deep violet bodice. Layers upon layers of purple tulle made up the full skirt.

“It’s your favourite colour, dear,” Ophelia’s father told her.

“Well? What do you think?” her mother pressed.

“It does…suit me,” Ophelia finally said. “But where would I wear a dress like this?” The moment the words left her mouth, she knew she’d set herself up perfectly to fall into her parents’ trap.

Her mother visibly perked up. “It’ll be  _ perfect _ for the upcoming ball,” she gushed. “You’ll look so enchanting, no man could possibly resist asking you to dance. Ophelia, dear, I know you say you’re not ready, but it’s time you put away silly childhood dreams and begin thinking about your real future.”

Ophelia let the dress fall back into its box. Briefly, she considered arguing. But then she thought of those sketches and maps of the stars she’d painstakingly recorded over the years, rolled up and stowed away under her bed. She thought of trails of starlight that seemingly led nowhere; but she knew in her heart that there was a destination - no, a destiny. And it was her utmost mission to find out what that was. 

She arranged her face into her most compliant smile. “You’re right, Mother. Thank you. The dress is beautiful.” 

~

The night of the ball, Ophelia did exactly as her parents wished. She squeezed into the beautiful purple dress, pinned her unruly curls into a suitable style, and presented herself to their guests with a blinding smile and amicable laughs.

Looking around, Ophelia spotted at least twenty boys around her age. They either hung awkwardly around the tables laden with bite-sized party foods, staring at the girls, or they latched onto a girl to impress with their raucous jokes or their knowledge of horse breeds or their fathers’ rank in the military. Ophelia caught Elle Gardener’s gaze from across the room; they shared an eye-roll and an exaggerated yawn.

Ophelia’s parents circled the room like a pair of sharks, chatting up every potential suitor in their path and throwing sly grins at Ophelia as they did so. Ophelia cringed. When her mother threw back her head and guffawed, loud and ringing, at something a blond boy who had his back turned to Ophelia had said, Ophelia shook her head and stepped out into the corridor.

Her head felt a little fuzzy. She made her way to the end of the hall, to the big window with the seat carved under it. Leaning her head against the glass pane, Ophelia gazed up at the inky sky. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, the spots of silver began to appear. She traced between them with her finger on the glass.

Ophelia heard her parents’ uproarious laughter float down the hallway again. By the end of the night, they’d have come to a decision as to who Ophelia would marry. She thought about being shipped off to some noble’s son’s household, forced to attend tea parties and, god forbid, host tea parties. She thought about having to go on horseback rides with her husband, talking with her husband about his day consorting with other noblemen, having to spend all her time on her husband every day. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Before she knew it, her legs had carried her halfway up the stairs. Ophelia stumbled up toward her bedroom, barely able to see through the frantic buzz in her veins. She fell to her knees beside her bed and dug through all the things she’d stashed away underneath it throughout the years. In a knapsack, Ophelia stuffed an armful of her sketches and maps, her trusty compass, several quills, a case of charcoal pencils, and her little collapsible metal telescope. 

Then, with only the full moon to bear witness, Ophelia stole away into the night’s waiting arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ophelia meets a new friend or two.

The open road was so much wider and longer when Ophelia wasn’t trundling down it in a carriage with her consorts. It was also much lonelier by night — but Ophelia felt a thrill at the sight of the stretch of flattened earth before her, lined with the towering trees of the forest on either side. 

Ophelia grinned up at the bright moon and turned on the spot, fingers catching the still night air. She turned again and again, until she was twirling and dancing and laughing and breathless.

When she stopped, the world kept spinning. Ophelia fell back on her bottom, breath coming in sharp gasps. Stars and moons swam in her vision and the trees waved disdainfully as if to scoff at Ophelia’s antics and the cold night air washed over her skin. 

Ophelia didn’t know how much time had passed when she picked herself up and recommenced her trek. When she happened upon the little tavern at the side of the road, it burst with drunken singing and vibrant laughter. Ophelia paused at the threshold, readjusting her shawl around her shoulders. She took a deep breath and stepped in through the curtains hanging in the doorway. 

A trio of men sitting at the bar erupted in a howling fit. Glasses sloshing over with amber liquid clinked and thumped on the wooden tables and bartop. A musician in the corner plucked at his lute and warbled a raunchy tune about mermaids, barely standing upright. The lively fire dancing in the hearth threw a warm glow over everything and cast cheerful shadows upon the walls.

Ophelia inched toward the bar, digging through her knapsack in search of the coins she’d brought with her. In her haste, she bumped into a cloaked figure moving in the same direction. “Sorry!” Ophelia gasped. 

A pair of bright blue eyes peered briefly at her from beneath the hood of the cloak before disappearing again as the person turned and made their way to the stool on the far end of the bar. 

Ophelia shook her head and took her own seat. The barkeep raised a slim blond eyebrow at her, leaning over the bar. Tendrils of gold hair fell from the haphazard knot at the nape of the barkeep’s neck.

Ophelia gulped. It suddenly occurred to her that she had no idea how to act at a tavern. Were there different kinds of drinks, or were you meant to just order “mead?” Was there food? The smell of meat wafted over from somewhere in the back of the tavern, making Ophelia’s stomach growl with the ferocity of the mythical lion. There definitely was food here.

The barkeep grinned. “I’ll get you some food and a flagon of mead.”

Ophelia’s cheeks heated. “Uh, thanks.” 

The barkeep sashayed away to the hooded stranger’s end of the bar. She poured a frothing flagon of mead at the tap and set it down in front of the stranger. “Back so early?” the barkeep said. “I thought you had a big party tonight.”

Ophelia’s ears perked in their direction, struggling to catch each word over the din of the tavern’s rowdy patrons. 

“I’m not going back,” the stranger said. His voice was low, furtive. 

The barkeep paused in polishing the glass she held in her hand. “You’re not?” Now her voice was hushed, too.

“I need a place to sleep tonight,” the stranger said.

The barkeep slowly set the glass down. She nodded. “Okay. Okay, I can do that. Where are you going to go next?”

Ophelia glanced over. The stranger shrugged, the nondescript black fabric of his cloak shifting over broad shoulders. 

Ophelia averted her gaze before either of them could catch her staring, focusing on the oakwood of the bar in front of her instead. A few moments later, a plate loaded with meatloaf, green beans, and mashed potatoes thudded down in front of Ophelia, along with an overflowing flagon of mead. 

“Thanks,” Ophelia said, smiling up at the barkeep. 

The barkeep offered a lopsided grin in return, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She pushed her hair back from her face with her palms, turned, and went back to pouring mead with machine-like efficiency. 

When the barkeep returned to collect the coins Ophelia had piled onto the bartop, Ophelia stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. “I’m, uh, also looking for a place to stay the night. Do you have any room upstairs?”

“Sure thing. It’ll just be another gold coin.”

Ophelia fished the coin out from her bag and dropped it in the barkeep’s palm. “By the way, what should I call you?”

The barkeep smiled. “I’m Eve.”

After Ophelia had swallowed the last drop of mead in her glass, belly full and cheeks warm with alcohol, most of the tavern had cleared out. Eve emerged from the back with two keys hanging from rusting iron keyrings, and beckoned Ophelia and the hooded stranger over. They followed Eve up the rickety wooden stairs into a dark upstairs corridor which smelled of old sweat and mildew.

Eve unlocked two adjacent doors and nudged them open. The moonlight filtering in through the windows in the rooms partially lit the hallway. “Here you go.” Eve turned and held the two keys out to Ophelia and the stranger.

“Thanks, Eve,” the stranger said, taking his key. He met Ophelia’s gaze for a moment, as if searching for something in her eyes. Then he lowered his hood, revealing a head of dirty-blond hair sticking up every which way. 

Ophelia grabbed her own key. “Thank you,” she said to Eve with a smile. 

Eve nodded and clattered back down the stairs.

Ophelia turned back around to enter her room, only to find the stranger staring at her with an unintelligible expression on his face. She stood for a few long seconds, expecting him to say something — but he didn’t. 

“Um, I’m Ophelia, by the way,” she finally blurted. 

The stranger startled. He inhaled sharply. He let his breath out through his teeth, all the while not taking his unsettling gaze off Ophelia. “I’m Jonathan,” he replied at last. 

Ophelia smiled uncertainly. “So, what brings you here?”

Jonathan shrugged, finally looking away. “Just running away from home in an act of adolescent rebellion, I suppose.” He crooked a grin at Ophelia. A dimple flashed in his right cheek. 

Ophelia let a breath out. “Me, too, actually.”

“ _ Really _ ?” Jonathan’s eyes resumed their intensity. 

Ophelia felt as if Jonathan could see through her plain, ratty shawl and straight to the silk dress she wore underneath. She tightened the shawl around herself. “Where do you think you’ll go after?”

“Wherever the road takes me.”

Ophelia snorted. 

Jonathan raised an eyebrow.

“Do you hear yourself?” Ophelia laughed.

Jonathan shrugged again. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Wait — really?”

“Yeah. Why not? We’ve got the same goal. Two heads are better than one. Strength in numbers. All that.” He flapped his hand. “And,” he added with a smirk, “I don’t get the impression you’d last very long without me.”

Ophelia bit her lip. She decided to ignore the jibe. “I — that’d be awfully nice of you.” To tell the truth, she’d been beginning to feel some trepidation at the looming prospect of making it outside her manor walls all on her own. She had never so much as gone to the market without the company of her parents or their staff. 

Jonathan grinned in full. His pearly white teeth glowed in the moonlight. “See you in the morning, Ophelia.”


End file.
